


Time Will Tell

by onlyhuman



Series: H&L Hogwarts Humping [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Anal Sex, Background Drarry, Birthday Sex, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Turner (Harry Potter), absolute filth, also, and here is the kicker, and some surprise guests you might possibly recognise, bratty louis, there is no tag for 'Threesome with Character's Future Self' so threesome will have to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26428711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyhuman/pseuds/onlyhuman
Summary: The golden idea finally comes to him when Harry’s snoring into Louis’ armpit, mumbling something that resembles ‘it’s like there’s two of you sometimes,’ and suddenly, Louis knows what he has to do.Whoever said Time Turners weren’t dangerous clearly has never met Louis Tomlinson before. Harry’s birthday promises to be a special one this year.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson/Louis Tomlinson
Series: H&L Hogwarts Humping [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/546046
Comments: 13
Kudos: 107





	Time Will Tell

**Author's Note:**

> SHE'S BACK, with the long-promised second installment of the H&L Hogwarts Humping-series in the hell year that is 2020! 
> 
> First off: you don't have to have read the first one to read this one, it's perfectly fine to read as a stand-alone. 
> 
> Then, the only reason I broke my radio silence: it's [Alice](http://intensedrarry.tumblr.com)'s birthday today, and even though almost every fic I've posted since the bun kink fic was in big part due to you, I never wrote one especially _for_ you. Time to change that, no? This is just a gentle reminder that I would go to war for you, or struggle to finish a 10k fic for the first time in literal YEARS for you. Can't get more dedicated than that from my side, honestly. Happy birthday. I love you more than words can say, so here's a fic filled with them.
> 
> I owe [Kara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karamelised/pseuds/karamelised) my firstborn for the last-minute, but very thorough beta, and [Eline](http://ardentlyadmire.tumblr.com) and [K](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairdeloune/pseuds/clairdeloune) for holding my hand through this when I desperately needed validation. Love you all. 
> 
> Important to note: Harry turns 18 in this fic, Louis is 20, and it's thus set in 2012. I made up the concept of a Ninth Year, because I needed an excuse for Louis to still be at Hogwarts. We do what we have to, fam. 
> 
> Other than that: absolute filth lies ahead. You have been warned.

Harry’s eighteenth birthday is coming up in two weeks, and Louis is slightly starting to panic. And by ‘slightly’, he means _definitely spiralling into the deepest, darkest pits of his thoughts,_ because he hasn’t got the faintest idea what to get him. It’s an important one, since apparently in the Muggle world you turn into a legal adult at eighteen. Whatever he gets Harry has to echo that sentiment.

Salazar, he’s got to figure this out fast.

“H,” he begins late one evening, when Harry’s sprawled across the floor, head in Louis’ lap, and they’re both staring at the ceiling of the Astronomy Tower after their long-standing weekend tradition of stargazing, “do you have any plans yet? For your birthday? Or any wishes? It’s not every day you turn eighteen.”

They shouldn’t even be here anymore at this age, but life went differently than their parents had prepared them for. Ever since the year of the Battle of Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall had decided that an extra curriculum to prepare their students for the magical world was in order. Aside from a curriculum to their own choosing, in Eighth Year the Houses were merged together, in order to learn how to deal with students from _all_ Houses, even the ones you usually tended to avoid. It had started after the war, and when afterwards even _Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter_ seemed to get along better than they used to, the board had deemed it a success. It had been written into the bylaws of the Ministry that Eighth (and preferably Ninth) Year were now an option and that was that — all students were highly encouraged to attend Hogwarts two years longer than the generations preceding them, even if they’re technically adult wizards at seventeen already.

Of course, the majority of students still chooses to bolt the second they’ve got their NEWTs, but Louis had heard from Niall that it’s almost like A-levels in the Muggle world — you’re not forced to take them, but it apparently adds a depth to your learning you otherwise wouldn’t have gotten. Which, sure, knowledge is power and everything, but Louis is not here to learn. There’s a reason he didn’t get sorted into Ravenclaw.

No, why Louis chose to stay is clear as day: while his extra years at Hogwarts are slowly coming to an end, Harry’s just started his in September as one of the few in his year, which means that Harry’s got a private room these days. Louis still shares his with Zayn, but he’s at Harry’s all the time, and everyone knows it. Even the professors are aware, he’s certain, but no one seems to give a rat’s arse.

All things considered, Louis is having the time of his life. No more sneaking around in order to get a good make out session in, no more asking their friends to stay out of the dormitories so they can get their rocks off, no more wicked schemes by Harry to have the Slytherin common room to themselves after Louis’ NEWTs…

Except all this uninterrupted time together does mean they’ve had all the sex they possibly could have. Really, how on bloody earth is Louis going to beat that?

“Honestly? Surprise me,” Harry finally shrugs non-committedly, and Louis had been afraid he’d say that. He was hoping to get something concrete, but there’s nothing coming to mind, apart from building him a rocket so he can take him on a star-spotting trip up close. Even he knows that’s impossible, though. Brilliant as Louis is, he’s got his limitations.

“You’re useless,” Louis mumbles, and Harry throws him a grin.

“That’s not what you said last night,” he remarks drily, and _god,_ Louis can’t stand this kid, but he’s not wrong — even now, Louis wants nothing more than to kiss him, so he does exactly that, bending over so he’s leaning over Harry’s face and he lets his lips brush Harry’s.

“Then you best make sure it’s not what I say tonight, either,” he mumbles against Harry’s lips, and Harry responds by opening his mouth and letting his tongue slip into Louis’ mouth, deepening the kiss quickly.

Figuring out a birthday gift can wait, Louis thinks as he slides his hands under Harry’s robes. Judging by the way Harry’s body seems to wake up immediately, he shares that sentiment.

~*~

The golden idea finally comes to him when Harry’s snoring into Louis’ armpit, mumbling something that resembles ‘it’s like there’s two of you sometimes,’ and suddenly, Louis knows what he has to do.

Contriving it might be a problem, but luckily, he knows exactly where, or who, to turn to. He’s heard the whispers in the hallway, heard his mum talking about the rumours with a curled upper lip, speaking of her distaste and admiration both. It’s worth a shot, he thinks.

Pushing Harry onto his side gently, Louis rolls out of bed and sits down at his desk gingerly. He grabs his quill, scrawling a quick message onto his roll of parchment, hoping with all his might that it’ll be enough to get his plans to work out.

 _I know you haven’t got a clue who I am,_ he writes, his fingers shaking with excitement and nerves alike, _but I’ve heard that you’ve got something in your possession that I’m certain my boyfriend would appreciate like no one else. Would you be open to a visit?_

_All the best,_

_Louis Tomlinson_

Louis hopes that the mention of Harry will get him an in — he’s heard the rumours, of course, he’s got pages upon pages from the _Prophet_ memorised about the scandals this man used to get up to that weren’t related to Dark Arts whatsoever (though some bigots would say otherwise). It’s a weak link, to be fair, but one can hope.

He whistles softly and his owl, Peyton, comes flying through the window immediately. It never ceases to amaze Louis how swiftly she responds to him, no matter how far away she is, and it’s something he’s never been able to understand the mechanics of, but he’ll take it. There’s no time, ironically, to sit around and figure this out. He’s got to _act._

“This is important, Peyton,” Louis whispers, so as not to wake Harry. “If we get this right, H will never win this from us again.” She blinks at him in disdain, as if she _knows_ what Louis plans to do and she resents being a part of his scheme, but she flies off anyway.

He loves her, he does.

Not even twenty-four hours later, while Harry’s off to Muggle Studies (why he’s taking that class, Louis will never know, the kid is _raised by Muggles_ ), Peyton is back, a piece of parchment clasped between her talons which makes her struggle to keep upright. Through the wax seal, a family emblem shines at him that he knows all too well, so he tears through it without a second thought.

_Mr. Tomlinson,_

_You’re severely mistaken: I have in fact heard about you. There’s a portrait of Severus Snape in my dining hall that doubles as a portal for the one in the Slytherin common room. He’s very chagrined about seeing more of you than he’s ever bargained for. I must confess —your letter has left me intrigued as to what you expect from me. Meet me whenever your schedule suits you, I work from my home offices most days. Send me an owl as soon as you’ve settled your business, and I will meet you at mine. I trust you know where to locate it?_

The signature at the bottom makes Louis blink twice. He’d wanted this badly, but he hadn’t expected he would actually…

If only he could tell his mum. She wouldn’t believe her ears.

~*~

The weekend that everyone is off to Hogsmeade, Louis sneaks off to travel South.

He’s managed to convince Harry to spend some time with Zayn, Liam and Niall, explaining that so shortly before his birthday, Louis has to make the most of his time. It’s not a lie. Harry just thinks that Louis will get to Hogsmeade shortly after he’s finished with whatever it is he has to take care of, and that’s… Well, that’s not happening any time soon.

When he arrives at the estate, he’s taken aback by the grandness of it all. Doubtfully, he follows the curves of the hedge and walks up the gravel driveway, narrowly avoiding some kind of white bird, and fuck’s sake, he knows this family is rich, but their own exotic birds? They’re on a whole new level. The gates, for their part, are impressive, and if Louis wasn’t himself, he’d be intimidated maybe, but he’s here on a mission — he’s got no time to be intimidated.

Before he can knock or attempt to find any kind of bell, the iron of the gate transforms into a face of the ugliest man Louis has ever seen, but he knows better than to say so.

“What’s your purpose?” the gate asks, face scrunching up with disdain. This family certainly does have a flair for the dramatics, Louis has got to hand it to them.

“Your master is expecting me,” he tries to say confidently, though a slight tremble could possibly be detected in his voice. He’ll deny everything when asked.

“Name?” the gate asks, obviously bored — though what else could it possibly be doing? It’s a bloody _gate,_ it’s got nowhere to go.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. The face disappears, though not before sticking its tongue out at Louis, and _hey —_

He’s got no time to think of a retort, because the gates swing open and Draco Malfoy himself awaits him at the front door, dressed in sleek, black trousers, combined with a waistcoat that Louis wouldn’t even wear to the Yule Ball, but somehow seems to suit this man. Merlin, he could only wish to combine outfits that effortlessly, but Louis sure hasn’t got the elegance to pull it off. Nor is he blonde or flawless enough to match it all.

“Mr. Tomlinson, what a pleasure to meet you in the flesh,” Malfoy says formally, holding out his hand, and then adds with a smirk, “and dressed, at that! If Severus were to be believed, you should have such an aversion to public decency you would have showed up here in the nude.”

“The nudist would be my boyfriend Harry, I’m afraid,” Louis grins as he shakes Malfoy’s hand. Malfoy stops at that, staring at Louis for a second, only to shake himself, a small smirk curling around his lips.

“It must run in the name,” Malfoy murmurs to himself, a bemused expression crossing his face.

“Sorry, sir, what was that?” Louis asks, confused.

“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” Malfoy says, amused. “Please, do come in, and none of this formal nonsense. I’m not nearly old enough for you to call me sir.”

Louis is technically not old enough for Harry to call _him_ sir, either, but it doesn’t seem to stop either of them. He wisely keeps that comment to himself, though, as he follows Draco Malfoy into the Manor, which from the inside seems to be even bigger than its outsides suggest. He loses count of the number of rooms they pass, some doors firmly closed of which Louis instinctively knows not to open them (though that fact only alights his wishes to enter them, of course), until they arrive in the library.

Harry would wet himself if he ever set foot in here, Louis is certain. Stacks upon stacks of books are surrounded by what seems like millions of candles, accentuated by a breathtaking dark red and black interior, and Louis swears he can feel the humming of their magic in the air, can feel the endless pools of information that must be stored here calling out to him, and _he isn’t even a reader._

“This is incredible,” Louis says, slack-jawed, almost forgetting what he came here for. Malfoy lets out a chuckle that’s tinged with something wry.

“With no thanks to my father,” he says, staring pointedly at the red carpeting around the bookcases, “We remodelled it to the best of our capabilities after he moved to France. It was one of the coldests room of the Manor, before, well…”

“Before?” Louis asks curiously, but then the door of the library swings open and no one other than Harry Potter walks in, and surely, Louis must be dreaming — what business would _the Saviour of the Wizarding World_ have to attend to here?

“Before I started leaving my mark on Draco’s life, of course,” the Saviour in question remarks with a grin. Louis stares at him, flabbergasted, trying to come to terms with what is happening here, and yeah, the scar and those glasses speak for themselves, but he needs answers.

“Meet my worse half, Harry Potter,” Malfoy says with a casual wave of his hand. Potter’s face doesn’t even twitch at the comment. He simply sits down on one of the dark, leather-clad Chesterfield sofas, making himself comfortable without hesitation.

The gears in Louis’ brain are turning at top speed. Worse half, surely that means…

“You’re the other Harry with nudist tendencies!” Louis blurts without thinking, and _god,_ he can’t believe he just told Harry bloody Potter that he knows he loves walking around naked, but there’s no turning back now, he’s got to own up to what he said, doesn’t he?

Potter busts out a laugh, throwing a look at Malfoy, “Blabbed again, did you?”

Malfoy shrugs. “Nothing that wasn’t true. Turns out he has a similarly named boyfriend with similar tendencies.” He stops talking, turning to Louis. “Which brings me to the following — what do you require my assistance with?”

“I…” Louis starts, suddenly hesitant to ask what he came here for. In the daylight, it seems like an outrageous proposition, and he isn’t even certain that the rumours are true, that he’s in the right place, but he must be. Surely, he must be.

“Need me to leave?” Potter offers helpfully, throwing multiple Bertie Bott’s beans into his mouth. “If it’s a sensitive subject, I don’t mind leaving you to it.”

“No, sir… Potter… Harry,” Louis stumbles, promptly hating himself for his clumsiness, who does he think he is, _Liam?_ “I don’t mind, you can stay, of course. Just…”He sighs, lowering himself into the Chesterfield opposite the two of them. He’s just gonna have to resort to calling him Potter, he thinks. Harry is too confusing, considering his current predicament.

“Spit it out, Tomlinson,” Malfoy remarks lazily, his hand leaning carelessly on Potter’s shoulder. The two of them make a powerful pair, Louis must admit, but where others might be intimidated by the sight of a Malfoy and Potter joined in forces, Louis spots the signs he knows all too well from himself and Harry. He notices how Potter leans into Malfoy’s hand, how Malfoy’s face has relaxed almost noticeably, his entire posture more languid than Louis has seen him the entire time they were alone, and weirdly, it gives him the strength to continue. This, he knows.

He’s on the right path, he’s certain of it.

“I heard some rumours,” Louis starts, puffing out his chest, “that you might have a Time Turner in your possession.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Potter’s face doesn’t give away a thing, as stoic as he is in the pictures in the _Prophet,_ whereas Malfoy’s eyebrows are raised in surprise. He seems to collect himself quickly.

“I cannot confirm nor deny anything of the sort. As you’re aware, Time Turners are highly illegal,” Malfoy says carefully. “Hypothetically speaking, what would you need such a device for?”

“That’s…” Louis sputters, wanting to add ‘it’s private’, but knowing that wouldn’t go down well, “It’s my boyfriend’s birthday soon, and he… I thought if there were two of me…”

Malfoy stares at him doubtfully. Potter, however, makes a noise next to him, catching on to what Louis means much quicker than Malfoy seems to.

“Merlin,” Potter chokes out, chest heaving with laughter, “you’ve got some spirit, don’t you? A Time Turner so he can _double dip his boyfriend._ You’re creative, I’ve got to hand it to you.”

“Indeed. Very ingenious, Tomlinson. I almost regret not thinking of this myself,” Malfoy says pensively.

Potter’s face turns scarlet, a rare occurrence, if the papers are to be believed. “ _Draco.”_

“What?” Malfoy asks airily. “Suddenly a prude now, are we?”

Circe, Louis thinks to himself, what in Merlin’s name has he gotten himself into?

“I, just…” Potter pinches his nose, staring at the ceiling as if he can’t quite believe his life. If this is the reaction to the mental image of two Draco Malfoy’s, Louis thinks, he just struck gold here, didn’t he? Harry won’t be able to believe his luck.

“You’re just imagining the logistics,” Malfoy nods, “which I am, too. And you should as well.” His eyes zero in on Louis’, a stern look on his face. “I might be able to get you something of the sort. But there are a few things you must be mindful of, hypothetically, of course. First, you can’t change the past drastically, and you must be careful not to run into anyone. Wizards have been known to kill their future selves because they’d been petrified to see an exact copy of their face, which, I don’t have to explain to you, would be catastrophic. Of course, having two of you is the whole premise here, so you must find a way to prepare your past self for it.”

“Is that even possible?” Louis asks, eyes wide. He hadn’t considered that, hadn’t known about the side effects. A small trickle of doubt is starting to form in the back of his mind that he pushes away determinedly.

“I have never used it,” Malfoy admits, “So I can’t be certain. What you’re planning to do here is quite dangerous, so I urge you to be careful, Louis.” Louis jolts at the use of his first name. Malfoy must mean business if he’s willing to familiarise himself with Louis in this way.

“I _have_ used it,” Potter pipes up gleefully. Louis and Malfoy both whip their heads around in surprise.

“Pardon me? _When_?” Malfoy presses, stressed.

“During our third year at Hogwarts. I can’t go into the specifics, but we managed to save Sirius from the Dementors that night,” Potter shrugs, and Malfoy’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Does this have anything to do with that mysteriously escaped Hippogriff, by any chance?” he asks, his voice dripping with apprehension, though Louis can’t make sense of his reasons.

“Not a word about Buckbeak, _Malfoy,_ I don’t want to hear it,” Potter warns, suddenly chagrined, “Not from you.”

“Granger already punched me that year, wasn’t that enough atonement for my teenage crimes?”

“Not now,” Potter says, nodding at Louis, whose head is swimming with information he doesn’t know what to do with at this point. “There’s other things you must know. First, time has a funny way of resolving itself. We can’t predict the effects of an altered time loop. For example, past me was certain I’d seen my father. Needless to say it wasn’t — turned out I’d seen myself from the future, even though that hadn’t even happened yet at that point.”

“What?” Louis asks, dumbfounded.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Potter advises him, “it’s been eighteen years and I’m still not certain I understand. You’d have to ask Hermione, she’s much smarter than I am. Instead, remember that you can only stay in the past five hours at a time. So don’t go around planning a sex marathon, you simply don’t have the time. Unless…” He throws a meaningful look at Malfoy, who shakes his head.

“Theo hasn’t gotten that far yet, despite Father’s best efforts. He’s stuck to five minutes at best. The one I — hypothetically — own is still from the old line,” Malfoy says, though whoever Theo must be, Louis hasn’t gotten the slightest idea.

“So five hours maximum, Louis,” Potter confirms, “That means you spin it five times. Every turn is equal to one hour.”

“And remember, you can’t speak a word of this to anyone, apart from,” Malfoy lets out a chuckle, “Harry. As you probably know, an incident at the Ministry destroyed every Time Turner that was left. It can’t become public knowledge that there’s another one stored around here. I wouldn’t get a day’s worth of rest, which is already rare considering our, _ahem_ , status.”

“Why do you trust me with it then?” Louis asks, finally having found his voice back, despite his every instinct telling him not to.

Malfoy throws an amused look at Potter, the corners of his eyes crinkling with fondness. “Let’s just say we remember what it was like being young. And I do appreciate a reckless quest here and there, or I wouldn’t be in a relationship with the epitome of a Gryffindor.”

“He’s not wrong,” Potter remarks, throwing in a wink. 

“And, of course, just remember what transpired here today when we inevitably ask for your help in the future,” Malfoy adds, only to spin around with a dramatic _swoosh,_ accompanied by a grace Louis could only dream of. He’s the Slytherin Louis has always wanted to be, really.

Malfoy consequently disappears from the room, leaving Louis alone with Harry Potter. Louis makes use of the moment to really take a good look at him. He looks older than the pictures in the history books, the lines of adulthood having slightly altered his face. He and Malfoy must be in their early thirties, Louis thinks, but already he can see streaks of silver tinting the bun on top of Potter’s head, hints of additional silver glistening in his beard. He looks unfairly hot, is the thing. With age came a sense of relaxation as well — he looks completely at ease, languid, as if he’s finally found what he was looking for all this time. It’s in stark contrast to the Harry Potter from the papers, who looks like he could murder everyone in sight.

He probably could, to be fair. He is the Chosen One, after all, and has battled far more than a few trashy so-called journalists. Louis shivers, reminding himself not to fuck this up. He simply can’t afford to.

“Why didn’t Malfoy know that you have used a Time Turner before?” Louis asks curiously, in part to cover up his staring. It’s been bugging him most during this entire conversation, though what this says about him, he doesn’t know.

Potter sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s complicated. Draco and I… We were on opposing sides for a long time, and third year was a particularly difficult moment in our past. We talk about it, of course, or this relationship wouldn’t work, but we avoid it when we can. Some things are best left behind. Besides, Hermione made me promise not to tell a soul about the specifics.”

“Seems like a smart woman,” Louis starts, though _Hermione_ means _Granger_ and only now does he realise he is talking about the woman who is in the running to become the _Minister of Magic, bloody hell._

“She certainly is,” Potter confirms with a smirk. “Though if Ron were to be believed, she’s got the emotional eloquence of a teaspoon. Expressing feelings is not her strong suit.”

Louis is about to ask how that relates to anything, but Malfoy returns then, holding a golden hourglass that’s attached to a necklace between his fingers. Where it had been stored, Louis will probably never find out, and he knows it’s for the best. He’s not certain even Potter is aware where it’s kept.

“For the love of Merlin, be careful with it,” Malfoy warns as Louis stands up and walks over, staring at the golden hourglass. It glistens by the warm light of the candles and Louis is fully aware of the implications as Malfoy lowers it into Louis’ own cupped hands, is fully aware of the responsibility they’re trusting him with by giving him this.

On the bright side: Harry will _love_ it.

“Thank you. I will return it the day after his birthday, so next week, is that alright?”

“As long as you return it in one, functioning piece, certainly,” Malfoy nods, a smirk crossing his face. “All that’s left for me to say is… Have fun?”

“That won’t be a problem,” Louis grins, bowing his head quickly in thanks before walking to the door.

“Bring your Harry next time!” Potter calls after him, and Louis shouts back “I’ll ask!” As if Harry would say no. He’s been blabbing Louis’ ear off about the rumours surrounding Malfoy and Potter: _What if the biggest names in modern wizard history are really queer like we are, Louis? Can you imagine?_

Yeah, Harry’ll come. In more ways than one.

As Louis walks out the front door, leaving Malfoy Manor, he stumbles over one of the white birds again, and now that he’s able to see it from up close, he notices it’s a white peacock. White _peacocks_. Who bloody needs white peacocks?

Merlin, he needs to get out of Wiltshire already. His boy is waiting for him, after all.

~*~

The library is nearly empty, and Harry keeps throwing him weird looks. It’s the day before his birthday and Louis’ hands are aching to touch him, but they haven’t slept together since that night in the Astronomy Tower, and Louis kind of wants to keep this up until the Big Event. Harry seems to be struggling more than Louis is, which makes sense, considering the fact that Louis knows exactly what is on the near horizon — it is enough to tide him over until then.

He’s a bit nervous about seeing himself in such a setting, to be honest. It can’t be very flattering to see yourself fuck your boyfriend in 3D, but the prospect of how wrecked Harry will be makes it more than worth it. He hopes, at least.

His throat is dry with anticipation, so he casts an Aguamenti, refilling his cup. He drains it quickly, swallowing it down, and can practically _feel_ Harry’s eyes trained on him, glaring into the deepest part of his soul.

“Out with it, H,” he fake-sighs, trying with all his might to fight his inner glee from showing on his face.

“You look… Well fucked. How?” Harry finally asks suspiciously, and… _Oh._

Louis will never understand how Time Turners really work, it makes his brain hurt, and he sure as hell doesn’t have any memories of what’s to come in a few hours. He does know the time loop is at play here, though, and he’s pleased to know that he doesn’t need to warn himself like Draco had suggested — because he’s been planning this escapade to begin with, his future and past self are both aware it’s happening.

Has already happened?

Who even knows. He apparently looks well fucked. This is clearly working.

“Just wait and see, love,” he answers airily. Harry’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t press it. Only a few hours to go until Louis can give Harry the sexcapade of the century.

As his fingers glide across the necklace hidden underneath his robes, he can’t suppress a grin. He can’t bloody wait.

~*~

The evening seems to drag by as they’re chilling in Harry’s dorm room. Harry is draped across his desk, pouting as he pushes his hair out of his face frustratedly. He’s filled out lately, his robes are stretched thin across his torso, trousers showing ankles they didn’t use to. It makes Louis twitch, wanting to get them off as soon as possible — his boyfriend has no right looking this hot.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me throw a party,” Harry complains, staring at Louis pointedly. “It’s not like we’re doing anything the boys can’t be present for.”

He’s got a point, but Louis would break and spill his secrets if he had to keep this from any more people, and it would’ve been extremely difficult to explain why they simply _couldn’t_ be here at midnight. It would be dangerous, for one, because who knows what they’d do when presented with a second Louis (especially Zayn would probably want to kill him), and also…

Well, he just doesn’t want them here for any of this, alright?

“You can throw a party whenever you want, H. Just not tonight.” Louis stands up to go to the bathroom, but not before allowing himself to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Patience, alright?” he mutters, to Harry, but also partly to himself now that he’s given himself some leeway. He forces himself off of Harry and Harry grumbles, turning back to his book and flipping the page with much more force than necessary.

They say Louis is a brat, but Merlin, Harry’s giving him a run for his money, isn’t he?

After what feels like a lifetime for both of them, the clock _finally_ strikes twelve. Louis pulls himself out of his armchair and sits himself down in Harry’s lap, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. His curls are falling around his face, the perfect length, if you ask Louis, to tangle his hands in and pull at it.

“Happy eighteenth, babe,” Louis murmurs, dragging Harry close by twisting his hands in said curls and brushing his lips against Harry’s.

“Oh, so _now_ you cantouch me?” Harry mumbles grumpily against Louis’ mouth, resisting for as long as he can, though he’s fooling exactly nobody.

“It’ll be worth it,” Louis promises, kissing him harder and putting his whole body into it. Harry’s lips part eagerly on their own accord, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Now that Louis has given himself the green light to finally touch Harry and give in to his impulses, he can’t get enough, making up for endless hours of sexual frustration and plans that made his head turn foggy, stomach churning with anticipation for what’s about to happen. He can’t keep his hands off Harry’s skin, lets them roam everywhere they can reach. Harry’s body responds swiftly, arching into him and letting his own hands slide across Louis’ arse, slipping under his robes and fingering the edge of his boxers. He’s burning with want, _Merlin_ , he needs to get a move on, it’s been an endless two weeks…

Louis bites down into Harry’s bottom lip, pulling a groan from his throat, and he laves over it with his tongue, soothing the sting. He hopes his future self actually waited until five past to turn the hourglass, because now that he’s started touching Harry, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop in time.

When Harry’s fingers brush over the contours of Louis’ arsehole, Louis manages to break the kiss with a gasp, throwing his head back. He grabs Harry’s hands and removes them from his arse, clutching them between their chests. His thoughts go back to that evening in the Slytherin common room, when Harry had mentioned wanting to fuck Louis for once, and _god…_

“You know, H, I can never decide if I want you to fuck me, or the other way around,” he finally manages to choke out, lips curling in amused anticipation, and he notices how Harry’s eyes are already turning dark, even though he has no idea what’s about to happen. Louis wrings his hands together, looking at his watch.

It’s time.

Louis’ eyes flick to the door of Harry’s dorm room. He takes note of his surprise of the day, waiting to walk in, and smirks. “Luckily, today I don’t have to choose.” 

“Today, we can do both,” his own voice replies, and Harry’s head whips around in astonishment as a perfect replica of Louis walks in, hair rolled into a quiff, eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, and he’s wearing a low black tank that showcases his chest tattoo which Louis recognises immediately — it’s one of Harry’s favourites when they’re not forced to walk around in their robes. He mentally congratulates his future self on the foresight to put it on, and he finally gets why Harry loves it so much.

He does look pretty fucking fuckable in it, he has to admit.

Harry goes pliant in Louis’ arms, eyes flitting between Louis himself and his Other Self in a matter of seconds, with that glassy expression that Louis knows all too well.

“Glad you could make it,” Louis nods at Other Louis, and Other Louis grins back at him, looking vaguely uncomfortable but excited all the same. Louis can relate. He looks himself up and down critically, _Circe,_ this is bloody surreal. His own eyes are staring back at him, endless pools of blue he should know like no other, but somehow feel unfamiliar to him. He searches his own face for the traces of time, any sign that shows this Louis is older than he is, but that’s ridiculous — the him from the future is barely six hours older. Time doesn’t work _that_ quickly. His own tattoos, however, feel more familiar than anything else, he _chose_ them for his body, they’re his and his alone. They are practically screaming at him to touch them, but it’s weird, innit, to go over and touch yourself? _Actually_ yourself, not just in the explicit sense of the word?

Salazar, this was one of his wildest ideas.

“Um?” Harry gapes, and Louis shakes himself out of his reverie. He untangles himself from Harry’s hold and stands up, walking over to stand beside Other Louis. Both of them stare Harry down in a way that should be weird, but for some reason isn’t.

It was always going to boil down to this, wasn’t it?

“How?” Harry stutters. The glassy look disappears for a second as he whips his head back to Louis. “ _Please_ tell me Zayn didn’t take a Polyjuice Potion.”

Louis opens his mouth to speak, but Other Louis beats him to it.

“No worries, love, I’m not Zayn,” he remarks flippantly, and Harry visibly relaxes, but then — “I’m Niall.”

Louis can’t fight the snort that leaves his mouth, nor the wheeze that follows when Harry makes an affronted noise, stalks over and slaps Louis against the arm. 

“That’s not funny, what is this? _Who_ is this?” He pouts, looking at Other Louis inquisitively, and Louis can practically see the wheels turning in his brain as he’s trying to make sense of it all. When his eyes widen in realisation, Louis can’t help but feel proud of him for a second, of his incredibly smart Ravenclaw boyfriend who probably already figured out where exactly he’d hidden the Time Turner all this time. 

“You found one? _Louis._ That’s fucking illegal,” Harry whispers, moving to make grabs for the necklace around Louis’ neck. 

“Or fucking _illegally,”_ Other Louis remarks. “Always had a knack for crime, didn’t we, darling? Doesn’t that make it even better?”

“This is bloody surreal,” Harry mutters, still staying firmly placed next to Louis, as if he won’t go over to his future self until Louis gives him permission, and as irrationally jealous as Louis feels of himself right at this moment, no one will ever be able to take that power away from him.

“Embrace it,” he says hoarsely and drags Harry close so their hips meet, waving a hand at Other Louis to join the party. His hands slide down to Harry’s hips as he watches how Other Louis smoothes Harry’s curls away from his face, stroking a finger across Harry’s neck and making him shiver with delight in Louis’ grip. Harry looks gorgeous like this, is the thing, already beautifully debauched when nothing has properly happened yet, and he loves how he — _they_ — can turn him into putty in his hands.

“Sit down, H,” Louis whispers, fingers sliding to the buttons of Harry’s robes and discarding them quickly. He’s wearing a white tee and denim skinny jeans under his robes — the contrast of Muggle and Wizard clothing is so fucking hot to Louis, the discrepancy between the two is sexy in a way it has no right to be. Other Louis wraps his hands around Harry’s arms and forces him down onto the edge of his bed, darting kisses down his neck as Louis undoes his own robes, revealing his lack of a shirt underneath.

“You’re both so hot, this is hardly fair,” Harry whines, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head as Other Louis noses down his throat. His legs are spread and Louis swears he can see his dick twitch in his jeans. He lets his hands slide around Harry’s thighs, kneeling down between his opened legs so he gets the perfect view of Harry’s prolonged throat from below.

“If we’re so hot, imagine what we would look like together,” Other Louis says casually, right corner of his mouth lifting up, and Louis stares at him, not catching onto what he wants. He can’t be blamed, really, _he_ hasn’t been through this once before, contrary to his.. other half.

“I’ve always wondered what kissing me is like,” Other Louis then adds smugly, and oh.

 _Oh_.

Salazar. Surely that crosses some kind of line, no? That’s weird on a lot of levels? Louis can’t say he’s not curious, but they… They _can’t._

Except then Harry moans in a way Louis has never heard him moan before, and well, fuck it, then. He needs to hear that noise again and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it out of him once more.

“Come down here, then,” Louis says with a bravado that doesn’t at all match how he feels inside. His fingers are shaking with their grip around Harry’s thighs, scratching against the denim, and to his utter surprise Other Louis gets off the sofa and kneels down next to Louis on the floor.

“Prepare to get your mind blown,” he winks, and Louis wants to roll his eyes at that, but then Other Louis cups his hand around Louis’ jaw and brings his lips to his… own? He’s kissing him with a finesse Louis usually reserves for Harry and he slides Louis’ fringe to the side, angling his jaw to slip him some tongue. He tastes like something undefinable, something Louis should probably recognise, but doesn’t. It mostly feels alien, having this happen to him, but he’s a good kisser, he has to admit that much.

His fingers dig harder into Harry’s thighs and Harry makes that noise again, Louis registers absentmindedly, a low moan rumbling from the back of his throat that Louis feels down to his cock, and he kisses back harder, both of them trying to bite down on their bottom lip at the same time, because, jesus, he’s kissing _himself._

He pulls back, panting hard, wondering what the fuck his life has come to, and promptly decides to never do that again.

“Well, that’s certainly an experimental masturbation technique,” he blurts out unthinkingly, and Other Louis groans in exasperation.

“Just so you know, we’re funnier now. We’ve grown.”

“Impossible,” Louis quips, chest puffing out. “We’ve always been hilarious.”

“Hello? I’m still here,” Harry whines from the bed, and both versions turn to him, momentarily having forgotten what they were meant to be doing. Or who, more like.

“We’ll get to you in a bit,” Other Louis says dismissively, “after you take your shirt off.” This time, Louis knows exactly what he’s thinking. He waits for Harry to discard his T-shirt, his delicious naked torso coming into view, a sight Louis will never, ever tire of. While Harry looks at Other Louis for approval, Louis slides his hands from Harry’s thighs to the zipper of his jeans, sliding it down to rest right above his knees, dragging his boxers with it. Harry’s cock springs free, hard as a rock already without being touched, and isn’t _that_ interesting?

“Nice to see him again,” Louis grins, and Harry shivers against the cold air of the room, or perhaps it’s because Other Louis flicked his nipples — either goes. He grabs Harry’s cock and licks a stripe from the base to the tip, watching how Harry quivers, melting into Other Louis’ grip.

“ _Shit,”_ Harry curses, thrusting up into Louis’ mouth, but Louis eases back, watching him struggle against their hold in jerky movements.

“Give into it, love,” Louis murmurs, and Harry can’t even answer, simply staring from Louis to Other Louis and back, his lips parted, slack-jawed with pleasure.

“You might as well,” Other Louis nods, fingers gliding over the hip point where Harry used to have it tattooed before the laurels covered it up. He eases further down and holds the base of Harry’s cock while Louis closes his lips around the crown, swirling his tongue through the slit. His own cock is starting to throb against his trousers, the friction delicious, but he gets distracted from the sensation when Harry whimpers. He throws his head back when Other Louis’ hands cover what Louis can’t reach quite yet as he’s inching his way down Harry’s cock. They’re moving in tandem, Louis bobbing up and down and Harry’s panting like he can’t get a single breath in, and then suddenly he’s not alone anymore, Other Louis having moved to the floor and taking Harry’s balls into his mouth as Louis is sucking him off.

“ _Jesus,”_ Harry whimpers, and that’s how Louis knows they’re truly wrecking him — he never swears in Muggle anymore unless he’s utterly out of it.

“You love that, don’t you,” Other Louis says lowly, wiping his mouth with his free hand, watching Harry wriggle.

“Y-yeah,” Harry moans, and when he looks down, he must meet the sight of two versions of Louis on the floor, one with his mouth wrapped around his cock and using his free hand to keep his soft fringe out of his face, the other staring at him with thick, black-rimmed eyes as he’s mouthing down Harry’s balls and sliding his delicate fingers over his taint. The sight must be the final straw for him because Harry collapses, his back finally meeting the bed as his hands fail to keep him upright any longer.

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” he cries, his hands flying up to cover his eyes, and Louis makes use of the situation to take him further down, taking him deep into his throat. He nearly chokes with it, but Other Louis reaches out to hold his hair out of his face, using his other hand to wank Harry off where Louis’ mouth isn’t covering him, and Louis can tell Harry’s getting close, his hips thrusting into Louis’ mouth furiously, pre-come slicking up his throat, and Circe, Harry is going to come already, he’s about to spill down his throat, _shit_ …

“That’s enough,” Other Louis orders, and pulls Louis back from Harry’s cock. Harry makes a weak noise of disagreement, staring down at the two of them with hazy, green eyes that can’t focus on anything in particular. Other Louis slides Harry’s jeans and underwear down his legs and throws them onto the floor, manhandling Harry until he’s on all fours on the bed, head hanging low between his arms.

“Hey, I was enjoying that,” Louis complains, getting up from the floor. He takes his own uniform trousers off and climbs onto the bed, manoeuvring himself around until Harry’s head is situated between Louis’ own legs.

“He can’t come yet. Didn’t you say you wanted to fuck Harry and get fucked by Harry both?” Other Louis reminds him, and Louis promptly shuts up, because though he’d _love_ to watch Harry ride him right now, wrecked as he is… He’s got a point.

He lowers himself until he’s flat on the bed, because though Other Louis might be onto something there, Louis still gets to choose _how_ they do this.

“I have decided you’ll fuck me today, H,” Louis says, throwing a nasty look at his doppelgänger.

“Merlin, I didn’t realise how insufferable I was until I became future me,” Other Louis groans, and Harry and Louis look up at him in confusion, simultaneously asking, “What?”

He rolls his eyes again, positioning himself behind Harry, and shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. “Never mind.”

There’s the _click_ of a bottle opening, and where he got the lube from, Louis will never know, but he can pinpoint the exact moment he teases his finger around Harry’s rim, because Harry collapses, arse lifting in the air and face resting down on the mattress between Louis’ legs.

It’s… Well, it’s the hottest thing ever, watching himself finger Harry from a different point of view for once, and getting to see from a distance how Harry melts completely into him, losing every last sense of dignity he possessed before this. He’s utterly theirs, and it’s like nothing else, he thinks as Other Louis slowly eases his finger into Harry and watches him quiver.

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Harry moans, his fingertips curling into the fabric of the sheets. He’s making a show of it now, loving the attention on him — he’s in his element and Louis knows he probably couldn’t get any happier than this. Harry’s head drops down into Louis’ lap and he haphazardly laps at the head of Louis’ dick, as if he needs _something_ in his mouth to focus on, and Louis can’t, he can’t simply be a spectator anymore. His cock is throbbing between his legs, mere inches from Harry’s face, and in theory he could ask Harry to open him up, but his boyfriend is utterly useless right now as he’s being fingered by his future self.

Louis takes matters into his own hands, casting a Wandless spell to lube himself up. Everything is wet and slippery and he feels himself go boneless already, but he can’t resist forcing two fingers into his arse anyway because he can’t wait any longer. Harry is still lazily wrapping his lips around Louis, though it’s more like holding him in his mouth at this point, so Louis curls his free hand into Harry’s curls, easing him off his dick as Harry’s being fingerfucked by himself, and fucking _hell,_ bothOther Louis and Harry are starting to moan at the sight of Louis opening himself up. He’s preening under the attention of them both, making a show of it as he speeds up the pace, grinding down on his own fingers and whimpering wantonly.

“That’s so good, ah, _fuck_ ,” he whines, and Harry growls, scrambling up and slamming his mouth against Louis as Other Louis slides another finger in and opens him up further. He moans into Louis’ mouth, grinding against Louis as if he’s being properly fucked. It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened, somehow, better than anything that has ever happened before this, and Louis can’t _take_ it, he needs to be fucked already, he’s been patient long enough, hasn’t he?

“Slide in then,” Louis breathes, bending his knees in the air and putting them over Harry’s shoulders.

“Wh…?” Harry asks, dazed, then finally seems to register Louis’ position. He gasps, grabbing his cock and lining it up with Louis’ hole, Other Louis’ fingers slipping out of Harry’s arse as he does so.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, throwing an uneasy look at Other Louis behind him, who is lining up his own dick with Harry’s ass simultaneously. Louis shakes his head, smiling, fondness creeping over him for that ridiculous, _lovely_ boyfriend of his.

“Do I look like I’m unsure? Fuck me, Harry,” he orders, and Harry doesn’t wait for him to say anything more, pushing the head inside. Louis closes his eyes initially, wanting to feel every sensation of the slide of Harry inside him with his entire being, but when Harry does a full body shudder, he opens his eyes anyway to see what’s happening. Harry lets out a sigh that seems to come from his toes, fully melting into the both of them as Other Louis slides into him.

“Bloody hell,” Louis gasps, legs falling to the side slightly as the impact of Harry _being fucked while fucking Louis_ slams into him. It’s a sight like nothing else, watching himself wipe the sweat from his forehead as he’s driving his hips into Harry, the force of it doubled now. He can’t imagine how it must be for Harry, being fucked and fucking Louis simultaneously, can’t imagine the overstimulation he must be going through.

“Shit,” Other Louis curses, folding a hand over Harry’s back and fucking into him harder.

“God, _Lou,_ you should see yourself _,”_ Harry breathes down on him, and just as Louis grinds his arse down again to meet Harry halfway he stares into his own eyes, bloodshot and kohl-rimmed.

“I’m currently looking at him, remember?” he grits out, watching how Other Louis fucks into Harry faster, the noise of his hips slapping against Harry’s cheeks reverberating through the room. He heaves up his legs to take Harry’s cock deeper, the sensations of being filled so overwhelming that it has him nearly spill all over himself, has him wanting to ruin the laurels on Harry’s hips to mark him as his, _his,_ not his future self’s whom he feels irrationally jealous of, even now.

“It’s unfair you can see him and I can’t,” Harry complains, hips stuttering as he cranes his neck to get a glimpse in, and Other Louis chokes out a laugh, face flushed with exertion.

“I’m right here, love,” he says hoarsely, and Louis pants as his cock throbs mercilessly,Harry hitting his prostate just right.

“Unfair?” Louis asks indignantly, clenching around Harry’s dick purposefully to punish him for his ungratefulness. “You’re the one who gets to have two of us, remember?”

“F-fuck, I’m close,” Harry chokes, biting down on a moan, hands running up Louis’ chest. Louis shivers, clutching Harry’s hands with his own and sucking a finger into his mouth. “I don’t think I can, _oh_ … Fuck —”

“Are you pretending not to hear me?” Louis grinds down, and Harry’s cock hits him just right. Fuck, he’s only seconds away from coming, if Harry would just…

He tries to wriggle to get Harry to hit that spot that makes him see stars, to get the angle that makes him come instantly, but Harry’s avoiding it almost expertly, hands grasping Louis’ own so they can’t fly down to his cock. 

“Oh, god, _ah_ —” Harry moans _,_ but then Other Louis does _something_ with his hipsthat changes the angle and hits Louis right _there._ He cries out, legs closing around the back of Harry’s neck as he spills, dick twitching with come, and shoots up his own torso. His vision whites out as he rides the waves of his orgasm, hearing Harry pant against his neck as he’s still being fucked. The force of it all doesn’t lessen, Other Louis still pounding into Harry with a vigour Louis would be jealous of if he didn’t know any better. It becomes too much too soon, his dick oversensitive as Harry’s grinding into him still. He can’t give into the bonelessness he so craves, not when Harry hasn’t come yet.

“Out, Harry, out,” he urges, pushing Harry off of him and rolling to the side, watching how Harry’s hands fly to his cock. Other Louis is still wearing his tank while he’s grinding into Harry, and well, it’s a vision, he can’t lie. His hair is falling out of his quiff and down his forehead, and Harry is melting into the mattress, curls matted against his face as his breathing matches the rhythm of their thrusts. He’s grinding into the sheets, dick leaking, and their pants echo through the room. It’s absolutely filthy, this, and Louis can’t get enough of it, he wants _in_ again.

Louis lifts Harry up, wrapping an arm around his torso to keep him upright from the front. He curls his fingers around Harry’s dick, wrist twisting on the upstroke, and watches in amazement how Harry shudders at the simple move.

“ _Please,”_ Harry begs, hand curling around Louis’ wrist in an attempt to guide the pace. Louis wanks him off faster, his mouth closing around Harry’s earlobe and tugging down gently.

“You know what to, _ah_ , do next,” Other Louis pants suddenly, the slap of his hips against Harry’s cheeks deafening in the otherwise silent room. He’s starting to tremble, Louis notices, and he’s fascinated, can tell he’s close. He’s suddenly desperate to know what he looks like when he comes.

Other Louis points at the Time Turner around Louis’ neck. Merlin, already? A wave of annoyance crashes over him, however, because…

“I don’t take orders, not even from myself,” Louis snaps, tugging at Harry’s cock at an even faster, furious pace.

“Tell me, who is going through his _second_ round of this? I think it’s safe to say I’m in charge,” Other Louis breathes, but then his eyebrows pinch together and his eyes close as he thrusts into Harry one last time, emptying himself inside Harry with a long, drawn-out moan that rings painfully familiar to Louis’ ears.

“Tosser,” Louis grumbles, watching how Other Louis comes to a halt, though Harry grinds back on his cock still, hoping for _someone_ to continue. Louis lets go of Harry’s cock, walking around to watch his own arse from behind as Harry seemingly tries to become one with the mattress again, and _huh._ Is that what all the fuss is about?

“All yours.” Other Louis winks, and then, before either of them can blink, he has disappeared without a sound and Harry’s hole visibly clenches around nothing, chasing the ghost of being filled. Louis’ cock throbs in sympathy, slowly on the way to getting hard again, but he can’t keep his eyes off Other Louis’ come glistening between Harry’s cheeks, and he doesn’t even know if that’s technically possible, if it shouldn’t have disappeared when Other Louis went back to the future, but…

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry near-sobs, arse still high up in the air as if he’s afraid he’ll leak if he moves, and yeah, Louis _does_ know what’s next.

“I know, darling, I know,” Louis shushes him. He goes back to lie down next to him and kisses Harry deeply before sliding his lips down his back, chasing his spine with his mouth. He sucks at the skin, lapping up his sweat, and it should be off-putting, probably, but Louis is embarrassingly into it, cannot get enough of the taste of him on his tongue. The heat of Harry’s back presses to his chest in a way that is addictive and he could probably come again, weren’t it for the fact that this is about _Harry._

His nails press red welts into Harry’s skin, his fingertips leaving a trail down their path. Louis stares at them for a second, following the traces with his tongue as if to soothe the sting, but it’s a sight he wants to keep in his mind forever, Harry red and wet for him, completely at _his_ mercy. He folds his hands around Harry’s cheeks, spreading them apart as Harry widens his legs. Louis leans in and licks a broad stripe across his crack, coaxing an outright _wail_ from Harry’s throat. He watches Harry’s dick twitch from the back, balls hanging low, and it’s delicious, the way Harry sprawls himself out for him.

He dips his tongue into Harry’s hole, carefully sliding in and tasting bitterness on his tongue.

“ _Louis,”_ Harry heaves a deep intake of breath, as if he’s gone utterly mental. “That is… Your… His…”

And yeah, alright, fair enough. Louis is essentially eating his future self’s come out of his Harry’s arse, this is a _lot._

“Don’t think about it too hard,” he advises, echoing Potter’s sentiment, and oh, _no_ , he should not be thinking about Harry Potter when he’s eating his own boyfriend out. He shakes his head, breathing in deeply and tonguing around Harry’s rim. He points his tongue and dips in again, slapping Harry against his arse as he does so.

“Lou- _is, Louis,_ please,” Harry is positively mewling at this point _,_ hands scrambling for anything to hold onto. His toes are curling underneath Louis’ grip as he fucks himself back on Louis’ tongue, and Louis is getting sloppy now, sucking as he goes, and fuck, he himself is dripping right about now, leaking onto the sheets.

He is working his mouth relentlessly, ignoring the tinge of his own come, and Harry makes a noise that sounds like a sob, arching away from Louis. He knows Harry is getting close, though it’s been a long time since he’s had Harry _this_ wrecked in front of him.

Louis widens his jaw further, getting as much of his mouth onto Harry as he can, his stubble scratching against his arse. He knows how much Harry loves the sting, loves the edge of it all to bring him past the point of no return. He pinches his thigh, adding to the sensation, and watches how Harry goes wild, utterly losing his _mind._

“God, oh, shit,” Harry gasps, biting down onto the sheets as Louis buries his face between his cheeks. Louis’ mouth is wet with come and lube, the mixture dripping down from the corner of his lips. It’s absolutely filthy, but it’s also the hottest thing that has happened to him in his life. His hold on Harry tightens, keeping him still as he licks into him rhythmically, timed with his thrusts.

“Come for me, love,” Louis murmurs, his hand reaching down to grab Harry’s cock, but he doesn’t even need to. Before he can even wrap his fingers around the head, Harry’s hole spasms, the authority in Louis’ voice alone enough to bring him to climax. He arches his back, moaning loudly as he spills all over the sheets and rides against Louis’ face relentlessly, effectively taking Louis’ breath away.

“Holy fuck,” Harry sighs, still thrusting back and forth slowly, riding it out as long as he possibly can. Louis is starting to get lightheaded, the musky, intimate scent overwhelming, suddenly.

“I need air, darling,” Louis mumbles, tapping him on the dimples on his back, and Harry eases up, though still offering himself up to Louis as if he could go for another round if asked.

Louis can’t take it — he flips Harry over onto his back, not minding the wet spots in the sheets, and looms over him, wanking himself off quickly.

“You should see how wrecked you look,” he gasps, and Harry’s staring at him with his big, green eyes, mouth open as if he wants to catch everything Louis has to offer. He’s a vision, ethereal almost, as he’s lying there wide-eyed, but Louis has other plans.

He zeroes in on Harry’s dick, limp and spent under him, thinking back to how his hole clenched around absolutely nothing, how he can never get enough of whatever it is Louis has in store for him, and that thought alone is what does him in.

“Har- _ry,”_ Louis whines throatily and then he comes _again._ He spills all over Harry’s laurels, painting them white as his vision goes red-hot, the room spinning around him. He’s vaguely aware of Harry moaning weakly as well, but he can’t focus on anything, his entire body burning with the intensity of it all.

Eventually, Louis sighs, lowering himself down and situating himself next to Harry. Their chests are both heaving with the exertion, and neither of them speak, coming down from the bizarreness of whatever it was that just took place.

Except then it occurs to him.

“Who was better? Me or him?” Louis prompts, staring at the ceiling, wishing they were in the Astronomy Tower instead. Harry can’t stop the laugh that falls from his lips, and Louis turns his head, glaring at him. This is no joking matter. He has to _know._

“Only you could ever feel jealous of yourself,” Harry says fondly, patting Louis on the arm, but he doesn’t answer. He follows Louis’ gaze to the ceiling, and, like reading his mind, grabs his wand and mutters a spell. Countless constellations instantly light up the sky above them, shining down on them brightly, and Harry sighs happily, burrowing himself down on the bed.

“You know what, H, every time I think I can’t fuck you any better, I beat myself at my own game,” Louis says pensively as Harry’s hand trails up and down his arm. “Or, well. Maybe Other Me beat me at my own game. I wouldn’t know, since you declined to answer.”

“He didn’t beat you,” Harry yawns, cuddling himself into Louis’ chest, and Louis all but purrs, instantly pleased. Harry throws a leg over Louis’ hip until he can’t scoot any closer. “That really wasn’t Niall?”

“That really wasn’t Niall,” Louis confirms, pointing at the Time Turner, still dangling around his neck, and all in one piece at that. Thank Merlin.

“Good. That would’ve been awkward,” Harry mumbles, his voice drowsy. Louis waits until his eyes are falling closed, and he’s mere seconds away from drifting off to sleep, to deliver his final blow.

“Hey, what do you think about visiting Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter in a few days? Turns out they’re fucking, perhaps we could give them some pointers.”

Harry’s eyes instantly snap open. “ _They’re what?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea of this threesome in my head since late 2016, but it didn't come to fruition until Alice said "WHAT IF DRACO, POTTER, STYLES AND LOUIS ARE IN THE SAME FIC?" a few weeks back. A lightbulb went off in my head, and suddenly I was 5k in and one-upping myself in filth _again_. It's what she does best.
> 
> As I already mentioned, Harry is 18, Louis is 20 and Draco and Harry Potter are 32, setting this fic in 2012. I took some liberties from The Cursed Child, even though I pretend it doesn't exist most days. In the play we don't address, Theodore Nott is working on a perfected Time Turner model that can send you back in time infinitely, and Lucius Malfoy has one of two prototypes in his vault. According to canon, however, this perfected prototype isn't finished until 2020. I changed it up so that Draco still has the old model in his possession. Again: because it's magic, because I can, and because it needed to work for sex.
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr ([fic post here](https://loveloveolivia.tumblr.com/post/629091832035491840/time-will-tell-author-onlyhuman)). Though, warning as always: questions about Sorting Decisions will lead to many in-depth discussions.


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